Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Rewrite
by sdykikyou
Summary: This is one idiotic fangirl's attempt to rewrite the Harry Potter series. The first book is finally done, however short it is. Read and review! And read the second book: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Rewritten Secrets. COMPLETED!
1. The Potions Master

I recommend you read the preceding chapter (The Sorting Hat) and the chapter until the first sentence you see here in the book to get an idea of where we are. Since Sonya has nothing to do with the story up until this point, I have decided not to waste my time copying it down. I wouldn't mind reviews but if Sonya comes across as a Mary-Sue, leave it. I'll introduce more and more of her quirks as we go along.

Disclaimer: Since this is a REWRITE, I own nothing. I'm just a hopeless fangirl who wishes she could be in the HP series is all. Anyway, I would like to caution you that this is a rewrite and therefore, you will recognize some of the paragraphs and whatnot. Don't bother me about it, I get that I don't own anything already AND I told you. Always come back here for a disclaimer refresher in case you forget.

The Potions Master

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new – _celebrity_."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape kept calling the names and when he got to one girl, he called out only one name.

"Sonya." He paused, a frown slow to arrive. "Is there no last name…Sonya?"

"No." The girl in the desk right next to him answered. "There isn't. Erm… am I to be calling you sir… sir? I'm really not used to calling people sir…sir. Sorry if it's an inconvenience." She grinned. Snape's face showed signs of hatred.

"Yes. You are." Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. Sonya looked barely able to contain laughter.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

_Powdered root of what to and infusion of what?_ Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air and Sonya's hand followed lazily.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand and glared at Sonya's before turning back to Harry.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest clue what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe or Goyle, who were shaking with laughter, or Sonya, who let out a short "ha" at the question, her hand still in the air.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He _had_ looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect him to remember everything in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_?

Snape was still ignoring Hermione and Sonya.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. He looked at Sonya, who mouthed "trick question".

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of the Living Death. A bezoar-"

"A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and is a good antidote to many poisons and potions. The last question was a trick question because monkshood and wolfsbane are the same thing. It's also called something else, but those are the two most common names. Anything else, Professor? I'm sorry!" Sonya exclaimed after her lecture. "Am I not supposed to answer without a signal? I'm so sorry! Begging your pardon, guv… er, sir." A few more people laughed at that as Sonya sat down, grinning.

"Well, despite her lack of self control, the girl was right. Why don't you all copy that down? And five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter, and you, Sonya, for talking out of turn."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around the room in his long, black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect was Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes into people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Seamus and Neville passed by Harry, who distinctly saw Sonya extend a bottle of her finished potion to the two without Snape's attention. Seamus took it and they walked outside as Snape rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You – Potter – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron.

"Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week – _why_ did Snape hate him so much? Then again, Sonya had lost four points, so it wasn't too bad… was it?

"Cheer up," said Ron. "Snape's always taking points off of Fred and George, and the other girl lost four points! It doesn't matter. Say, can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Harry looked back and saw Sonya running towards the hut.

"Oh, hello Harry, Ron! I'm here to see Hagrid!" She called as she finally reached the hut. Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on. _Back_, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. Sonya grinned at Hagrid as he beamed back at her and she took the dog's collar as he closed the door.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling; a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, motioning for Sonya to let go of Fang, who bounded straight for Ron and started trying to lick his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. "And this is-"

"Yeah, it's Sonya, I know. You taking your special tea?" Hagrid asked, offering her a tea cup with boiling water in it. Sonya grinned sheepishly.

"You know what happens otherwise, Hagrid." Hagrid let out a short laugh as Sonya pulled out a small flask and poured three drops of a liquid into it. Hagrid's attention turned to Ron.

"So, another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spent half me life chasing yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Ron and Harry pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her – Filch puts her up to it."

"You know, I actually kicked her once. She doesn't do anything, just plops down on the ground and stares at you like you're an evil being." Sonya commented. "Of course, she's stopped following me now, and the best part is, it frustrates Filch because he doesn't know why she won't come near me!" Harry and Ron burst into laughter.

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he really seemed to _hate_ me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"Besides, Harry, you're forgetting that he hates me too and I don't know why either. Does he not like people without parents?" Sonya pondered.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot – great with animals."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the _Daily Prophet_:

**Gringotts Break-In Latest**

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31, July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you." Said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were in there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time, but he did exchange glances with Sonya. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. _The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier the same day._ Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were after?

"Hagrid, I think that we have to go back up to the castle for dinner. It's been a nice visit, though. Will we see you again soon?" Sonya asked politely, although Harry noticed something pressing about her voice in the last sentence. Hagrid answered quite cheerfully with rock cakes and good-byes.

As Harry, Sonya and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, the boys' pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been to polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid – or even Sonya – know something about Snape that they didn't want to tell Harry?

Wonderful! So the first chapter is finally done! It's exam time right now and we've been having a lot of stuff to do, so I'll work as much as I can on the series. Next chapter up will be the Midnight Duel, where you see the devious yet loyal side of Sonya come out! Please review and keep an eye out for erratic updates!


	2. The Midnight Duel

Here it is, the Midnight Duel! Thank you to all of those who decided to review and… aww, screw it, let's just get on with the story. If you need a refresher, the disclaimer is in the foreword. Or the first actual chapter. I dunno.

**The Midnight Duel**

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco. Still, first year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday – and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

"Besides, Harry," said Sonya from behind them, making them jump. "Your dad was good at Quidditch. He was a chaser, in fact. And I know how to fly, and you'll do well. It's in your blood."

"My dad was a Quidditch player?" asked Harry. Sonya nodded.

"If you go near the trophy room, his name's on a plaque. Anyway, I smuggled my broomstick in so that I could get out sometimes. If you want, I'll help you." She offered. Harry shook his head and started thinking about what Ron had said.

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Even Sonya told Harry about how fun it was to fly, and how he'd love Quidditch and that he should try out, he'd be really good at it too. When he asked, Sonya explained more about Quidditch than Ron had told him. There was only one odd one out.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had a good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book – not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips until Sonya gave them a few useful tips that both Hermione and Neville completely hung onto her every word. Sonya was about to tell off Neville for grabbing her robes when the mail arrived.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he always opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table. Sonya got packages too; however, she didn't like to gloat.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly as Sonya passed out cookies from her most recent package. Neville showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I'm forgetful – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh…" His face fell because the Remembrall had suddenly turned scarlet, "… you've forgotten something…"

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble faster than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got Neville's Remembrall, professor." Sonya supplied.

Scowling at Sonya, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

At three thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley and Sonya complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high or some always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. Like most of the other teachers, she seemed to instinctively know Sonya, seeing as she nodded her head at Sonya when she spotted her. Harry had still been trying to figure this out…

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Well, hurry up!"

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. Ron's wasn't much better, and Hermione's wasn't either, although Neville's seemed decent enough.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" Everyone shouted. Harry's jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. To his delight, Harry noticed that even Malfoy was having a hard time with his.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting people's grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when they heard Madam Hooch tell Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two –"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips. His broom collided into Sonya's, which sent her up into the air right alongside him.

"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. Sonya seemed a bit disoriented, but she saw Neville and shot up after him. Harry saw his scared, white face look down at the ground falling away, say him gasp, slip sideways off of his broom and –

WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and Neville bounced off of a roof and fell down to the ground. Sonya had saved him from being skewered by a statue's swords, but Neville was currently lying facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest as Sonya flew after it.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his was.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter, "but it could have been worse. Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class, and, like all of the others, seemed not to notice Sonya zooming off into the distance.

"None of you is to move while I take this bow to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear."

Neville, whose face was tear-streaked, clutched his wrist and hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought _you'd_ like fat little cry-babies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something from the ground. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

"Give it here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for him to find it. How about, say, in a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy took off. Hovering above the topmost branches of an oak, he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom and, despite the protests of Hermione, took off without another word. Up and up he went and, in a fierce rush of joy, he realized that Sonya was right – flying was easy, and he was having fun. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher and heard screams and whoops from the crowd below.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here, Malfoy. Give it here or I'll knock you off your broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer but looking worried. Harry leaned forward and zoomed dangerously close to Malfoy, but he got out of the way just in time. Malfoy seemed to notice that he was in danger, so he grinned nastily and threw the Remembrall into the air. Harry watched as though in slow motion, watched the glass ball fly high into the air and slowly arc downwards. He sped ahead on his broom and zoomed forward. The glass ball fell right into his hand and he grabbed it and made a sharp turn on his broom. He landed back down gently as the group ran towards him and he stood, thrusting his trembling hand into the air. He looked in the air to see Sonya hanging upside down from her broom and grinned as she gave him a thumbs up. He couldn't be happier.

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank right back down into his stomach as Professor McGonagall ran towards them.

"Never – in all my time at Hogwarts—"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless in shock as she stared at him and then at Sonya.

"How dare you, Potter – might have broken your neck –"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor –"

"Quiet, Miss Patil."

"But Malfoy—"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley."

"But, Professor," Sonya said as the whole class turned to face her. "I must say, that was a phenomenal catch."

The class turned to stare at her in amazement for keeping her own upside down on a broom and at the fact that Professor McGonagall didn't say anything to her. Instead, Professor McGonagall just looked at her like an idea came into her head.

"Potter, follow me. Now."

Harry caught sight of Malfoy, laughing as he left (although he didn't look so smug after Sonya smacked his head). Walking numbly into the castle, he expected to be expelled. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall swooped forward without so much as a backwards glance; he had to jog to keep up.

All sorts of horrible scenarios popped into his head and he nearly bumped into Professor McGonagall when she stopped outside of a classroom.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, may I please borrow Wood for a moment?"

Harry was confused. Wood? Was Wood a cane she was going to use on him? But it turned out that Wood was a burly fifth year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

"Follow me, you two." Professor McGonagall led them down the corridor and led them to a classroom that was empty except for Peeves writing on the chalkboard.

"Out, Peeves!" Professor McGonagall barked. Peeves threw chalk and a trash can at them before exiting the room. Professor McGonagall ushered them inside.

"Professor, I just want to point out that Sonya was flying too, so she—" Harry faltered at the exhilarated look on her face. She seemed not to notice what Harry was saying.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood – I've found you a Seeker." Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Harry nodded silently. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to be expelled, and some feeling came back into his legs.

"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it. The last person I can remember was a girl named Sonya, but she was much before your time."

"But Professor, Sonya's outside! She's here in Gryffindor!"

Professor McGonagall was about to say something when Wood eagerly cut in.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him. "Light – speedy – we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor – a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. _Flattened_ in that last match by Slytherin, and I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks…"

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry.

"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

She suddenly smiled.

"Your father would have been proud. He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

Harry found himself smiling back.

"So I've heard."

"You're _joking_."

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"_Seeker?_" he said. "But first years _never_ – you must be the youngest house player in about –"

"A century," said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry.

"I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants it to be a secret."

Fred and George now came into the hall along with Sonya. They all three spotted Harry and hurried over.

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too – Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"I told you two he was brilliant, but would they listen to me?" Sonya cut in. "But really, Harry, couldn't you have spared us the theatrics?"

"But Sonya's so much better than I am!" Harry protested over Sonya's impression of him catching the Remembrall.

"Please, Harry. We just saw her, and she can barely mount a broom, much less ride one." George said.

"Anyway, we've got to go. Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's the one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week."

"Isn't that one blocked in? I tried it yesterday!" Sonya said suddenly, but Fred and George left only to be replaced by none other than Malfoy and his goons.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting on the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground with your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. Granted, there was really nothing small about Crabbe and Goyle, but seeing as the High Table was filled with teachers, they could do nothing more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"Honestly, though, Malfoy, do you have such an inferiority complex that you have to pick on Neville Longbottom?" Sonya shot at him fiercely. "I bet you couldn't defeat me in a wizard's duel. Or Harry, for that matter."

"I'll take you both on in a wizard's duel. No contact, magic only. I suppose Potter doesn't know what one is, does he?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, suddenly braver. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said.

"As for me, I won't be needing a second." Sonya said. Malfoy grinned nastily.

"Midnight, all right? In the trophy room, that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at Sonya.

"What _is_ a wizard's duel?" Harry asked. "And what's a second?"

"Well, a wizard's duel is when two wizards fight with magic only." Sonya offered.

"And a second is there to take over if you die, but in this case, all we can do is throw little sparks at each other." Ron said, reassuring Harry.

"Well, unlike you two, I've actually been talking to Fred and George. All I can say is that tomorrow, if you see Malfoy, chances are you'll die of laughter," said Sonya smugly.

"Excuse me." All three looked up. Hermione Granger was looking down at them, a disapproving frown on her face.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying—"

"Bet you could." Ron muttered.

"—and you _mustn't_ go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor when you're caught! It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business." Harry returned. Sonya sighed and stood up.

"Look, Hermione, I know that you're afraid of losing points, but if we do lose points, I'll just actually try in class and earn them back. Besides, if everything goes as planned, Slytherin's the one that'll lose points." Sonya grinned at Hermione, turned her around and gave her a friendly shove in the opposite direction. Sonya then proceeded to walk up the other side of the table to talk to Fred and George.

"She's scary too, mate. It's like she has Fred and George's minds!" Ron said.

All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day. Ron had spent all evening giving him advice and Sonya was still talking – and now trading—with Fred and George. There was a very good chance that they'd be caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoy's sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness – this was his big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face. He couldn't miss it.

"Half past eleven." Ron muttered at last. "We'd better go."

They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands and crept across the tower room and down the spiral case where Sonya was waiting with the pockets of her bathrobe bulging. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all of the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're actually going to do this."

Sonya sighed and, without turning around, said, "Fancy seeing you here, Hermione."

A lamp flickered on, and it was indeed Hermione wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother, Ron," Hermione snapped, "Percy, he's a prefect, he would have put a stop to this."

Harry couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering.

"Come on." He said to Ron and Sonya, pushing them through the portrait hole. Hermione, however, wouldn't give up so easily.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you _only_ care about yourselves? _I_ don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup and you'll lose the points I got for Switching Spells!"

"Go away, Hermione." Harry said wearily.

"Hermione, look at it this way. Gryffindor is supposed to be composed of the bravest students here. If we don't go to this, we'll be showing Malfoy that we're cowards and we'll make ourselves subject to further harassment. Now, if we do this, I can help all of those students being terrorized by Malfoy like – Neville!" Sonya had noticed a lump on the ground and the head surfaced from a pile of robes. It was indeed Neville, looking completely frightened.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours; I couldn't remember the password to get in."

"Quiet, Neville. It's 'pig snout' but you won't be able to get in now. The Fat Lady's gone off somewhere." Sonya said. Harry turned around and saw that this was true; the Fat Lady was nowhere to be found and Hermione was nearly in tears at the bottom of the frame.

"Well, we better be off, so…" Harry said. Sonya sighed behind him.

"We can't leave these two behind, she'd just tell and he'd probably wet himself from fright—"

"Hey!"

"No offense, Neville. Besides, either way, we lose points, so what would it matter if they came along?"

"Look, you! If either of you gets us caught, I'll never rest until I use the Curse of the Bogies on you!"

"I could do it…" Sonya whispered behind Harry, but he ignored it. They flitted along the corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. They sped up the staircase to the third corridor and into the trophy room. Gold and silver winked at them erratically from the dark and the minutes crept by with no sign of Malfoy.

"Maybe he's chickened out." Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry heard a voice, but it didn't belong to Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly to the others. Sonya grabbed a few things out of her pockets which seemed to shrink random trophies. She pocketed them quickly and motioned to Harry.

"Look, I'll stall him, you all run." She said.

"You're mental! You're not going to escape unscathed." Harry returned.

"Yes, I will. This will help a whole lot in our revenge against Malfoy! Just trust me and get out of here."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville all gathered around the second door and rushed out just as Filch came in.

Harry heard Sonya faintly say, "Mr. Filch! Malfoy's been stealing trophies! See the missing ones, I'm sure I can get into the Slytherin dorms and…"

They began to creep down a long gallery filled with suits of armor when they heard Mrs. Norris's pawsteps behind them. Neville gave out a squeak and they all started running blindly. They finally reached a door and wrenched the door open when Peeves shot out. Just at that moment, Sonya came running.

"Move, you lot, I need to get to the Slytherin… common… Why, hello, Peeves!" Sonya said. "Look, Malfoy's got the trophies in his dorm so Filch just told me to run down and help him in. Erm, Peeves, might I negotiate the cessation of hostilities against these wonderful but misguided students?"

"I'm afraid not, Sonya. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty!" He cackled.

"Peeves, please don't give us away!" Harry pleaded.

"Peeves, I'll show the Bloody Baron those pictures of you writing nasty things about him." Sonya said. Harry wondered about how she knew so much about Hogwarts that she could blackmail Peeves, but Ron made a swipe at Peeves and cut them off.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Sonya dragged them down the corridor and stopped.

"Look, I don't know where you all are going to go, but if you want to follow me to the Slytherin common room…" She offered hurriedly. Harry spotted a door and shook his head. Sonya shrugged.

"See you tomorrow at breakfast then!" She turned around, tickled a crying baby in a tapestry and ran through the door behind it. Harry and Ron tried to unlock the door but it didn't work, and Filch was coming closer and closer…

"Oh, move _over_," Hermione snarled. She put her wand to the lock and whispered, "_Alohomora_!" The door unlocked and they all scrambled in and put their heads against the door. They heard Peeves's voice outside the door and then Filch's.

"Which way did they go, Peeves, tell me!" Filch urged.

"Say 'please'."

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, which way did they go!"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please!"

"All right, then… _please_."

"NOTHING! Ha haa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is unlocked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay – get _off_, Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What?"

Harry turned around – and say, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare – this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. Not just any corridor, but in the forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a dog that filled the whole space between the ceiling and the floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was because they had taken it by surprise. It was quickly getting over that, however, and there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob – between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.

They fell backward and Harry slammed the door shut and they ran back down the corridor. Filch was nowhere to be seen but they didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor. Sonya also appeared, looking just as sweaty and flustered as they did.

"Where on earth have you all been?" The Fat Lady asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off of their shoulders and looking at their unkempt appearances.

"Never mind that—pig snout, pig snout." Harry panted. The portrait swung open and all five of them collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

"What's with you four? You look like you've seen Cerberus!" asked Sonya. "You know, the big dog that guards the underworld? Three heads?"

Neville whimpered at the last question.

"We _did_ see a three headed dog!" Harry protested, but he decided to drop it.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron after a while. "If any dog needs exercise, it's that one."

Hermione had got bother her breath and bad temper back again

"You don't use your eyes, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't looking at its feet. I was a bit too busy with its heads!"

"It was standing on a trapdoor." Sonya said quietly, and everyone turned to look at her. "I ran into it too, which is why I asked you to come with me so that you wouldn't face it. It's guarding _something_ but no one knows just what it is."

Hermione took the end of Sonya's speech to stand up and glare at everyone.

"Well, you three, I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could have all been killed – or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Ron stared after her in disgust.

"No, we _don't_ mind. You'd think we'd dragged her along, wouldn't you?"

"Say, Sonya, what exactly _did_ you do to Malfoy?"

Sonya grinned and handed him a small bundle of photos, all focused on the exact same thing: Malfoy turned crimson and gold, surrounded by trophies with Filch yelling at him. He and Ron shared a good laugh over this, but still. Hermione and Sonya had given him something to think about as he climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something. What had Hagrid said? That Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide – except, perhaps, Hogwarts.

It looked as though Harry found where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred thirteen was.


	3. Halloween

Haha! Chapta three is here! I'm so happy I've actually gotten this far cuz I thought I might be lazy and stop it at midnight duel… ;; Anyway, on with the show!

**Halloween**

Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he was woken in the middle of the night by Filch and twenty three trophies from the trophy room were all around his bed like a shrine. Malfoy couldn't believe that he'd gotten detention after he tipped off Filch about the students out of bed. Malfoy couldn't believe that some idiot had managed to turn him crimson and gold and he couldn't believe that it wouldn't come off! Finally, at breakfast, despite the uproar from the Gryffindor table, he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but still cheerful.

Indeed, by the next morning, Harry and Ron thought the encounter with the three headed dog an adventure and were quite keen to have another one. As for Sonya, they completely considered her a true friend now for having saved them from Filch, although Ron was sure that, after the prank Sonya pulled on Malfoy, his twin brothers would be in love with her. In the meantime, Harry filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both." Harry added.

"But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near that dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Ron and Harry, but seeing as she was such a bossy know-it-all, they took this as an added bonus. Sonya was the only one who seemed a slight bit worried. Anyways, all they really wanted was a way of getting back at Malfoy for almost getting them expelled, and to their great delight, such a thing arrived a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered away when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE. It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everyone knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

It was signed by Professor McGonagall. Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read. Sonya reached over and slid her hand over the package.

"Hmm, Potter, I wonder what this broomstick-shaped package is…" she whispered to him with a slight laugh. Harry grinned back at her as Ron handed back the letter.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one!"

The three of them left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it as Sonya sized herself up against the two gorilla-like boys.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them.

Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not just any old broom, it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save it up twig by twig."

Sonya smugly stepped into the conversation.

"Ah, but Malfoy, the difference between you and Weasley is that he doesn't mind. He could have a Nimbus or a Cleansweep for all I care and wouldn't mind as long as he had a broom. You take so much pride in your material possessions that you can't stand the fact that anyone else has a better broom than you do so that you become… well, sick_er_ with jealousy." Malfoy looked absolutely stunned. Before he could reply, however, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys, Sonya?" He squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor." Malfoy said quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances. And what model is it, Potter?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir. And it's really thanks to Malfoy here," Harry said, trying not to laugh at the horror on Malfoy's face, "that I've got it."

Flitwick smiled at Harry again and walked off as Harry and Ron started for the stairs. They stopped when they heard Sonya talk.

"You know, Malfoy, that crimson and gold look was really going for you. I loved it, at least." She said, smirking as evilly as Malfoy could.

"So it _was_ you!" Malfoy said to Sonya. She turned around and started to walk off.

"Get back here! Don't walk away while I'm talking to you!" Malfoy yelled. Sonya turned slightly.

"Why? Don't you like the view?" Sonya kept walking towards the stairs, adding an extra sway in her hips just for Malfoy. It was hard to tell why his cheeks were red: because of Sonya, or because of the crowd around him completely laughing at him.

Harry, Ron and Sonya headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.

"That was brilliant, Sonya. That really was," Ron gasped as they headed up a staircase.

"You two weren't bad yourselves. You just don't have the female advantage." Sonya returned.

"Although, it's true, what I said," Harry said suddenly. "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall, I wouldn't be on the team…"

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking the rules!" Came an angry voice from behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking at the package in Harry's hand disapprovingly.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "It's doing us so much good!"

"Ron, stop it!" Sonya cut in as she came to the front. "Hermione, I think what Harry is trying to say is that he's sorry he broke the rules, but it was for good intentions and it's lucky that he didn't get expelled, isn't it, _Harry_?" Sonya said, stressing his name.

"Oh, oh, yeah! Yeah, that's exactly it. And Malfoy's been-"

"Malfoy's been annoying us Gryffindors, hasn't he? So this was a nice, non-violent way to get back at him. That's all." Sonya said. Hermione walked away, digesting what Sonya said.

Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he'd be learning to play that night. He bolted his dinner that evening without even noticing what he was eating and then rushed upstairs with Ron to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled out onto Harry's bedspread.

Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

At six o'clock, Sonya dragged him down to the Quidditch field to practice flying before Wood showed up. He'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high. Harry eagerly mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground, eager to join Sonya up in the air. What a feeling—the Nimbus turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch. He wove in and out between the goal posts and sped up and down the field, sometimes racing Sonya and sometimes simply trying to watch all of the things she was doing.

"Wood's here, Harry!" She shouted. Harry looked behind him to see Oliver Wood dragging a large crate down the slope. Sonya grinned and winked at Harry, then flew spiraling towards one of the seat towers screaming, pretending she had lost control of the broom.

"Hey, Potter, come down!" Oliver called. Harry landed next to him.

"Oy, you okay over there?" He called to Sonya. Sonya picked up her broom, still intact, and marched on over, rubbing her head. "And is that your broom?"

"Yeah, it's my broom, and my head hurts. You won't tell on me, though, right?" She asked innocently. Oliver sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, just be careful."

"Of the broom?"

"Of yourself too. If you take a single wrong turn with that thing, you might end up getting hurt."

"Okay then. Bye Harry!"

"Well then. You really are a natural on a broom. Anyway, today, I'll teach you the basic rules of the game and then you'll come to regular practice three times a week."

He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players of each side. Three of them are called Chasers."

"Three Chasers…" Harry repeated as Wood pulled out a bright red ball the size of a soccer ball.

"This ball's called the Quaffle. The Chasers through the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of those hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Harry recited. "So—that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks…with six hoops. Isn't it?"

"What's basketball?" asked Wood curiously.

"Never mind."

"Now, there's another player that deals with the Quaffle— the Keeper. That's me on our team. What I do is I try and stop the Quaffle from going through our hoops."

"Okay, so three Chasers and one Keeper," Harry said. "So, what are they for?"

Harry was pointing to three other balls in the crate.

"Oh, well… Take this," said Wood, handing him a small club, somewhat like a short baseball bat. "There are two Bludgers. These two, actually."

Harry looked at the Bludgers: they were small, jet black and seemed to be straining to get free from their restraints.

"Stand back, Potter." Wood released the two Bludgers. At once, they zoomed out and came almost immediately at Harry's face. He swung with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and after a while of struggling, Wood was able to get them back into the crate.

"See? The Bludgers rocket around trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team—the Weasley twins are ours—and it's their job to protect our side from the Bludgers. So—think you've got all that?"

"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; one Keeper to guard the goal posts; two Beaters to keep the Bludgers from our team."

"Very good," said Wood.

"Er—have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?"

"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you. Now, you don't have to bother with the Quaffle or the Bludgers—"

"—Unless they try to kill me."

"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers. They're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared to the Quaffle and Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings."

"_This_," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to be able to weave in and out of Chasers, Bludgers, Beaters and the Quaffle to get to this before the other team's Seeker does, because whichever Seeker gets it first wins their team one hundred and fifty points, which nearly always wins them the game. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught.

"Well, that's it. Any questions?"

Harry shook his head. It would be the doing that would be tough.

"We won't practice with the Snitch because it's nearly dark. We'll just use these." He pulled out a bag of ordinary golf balls and the two of them went into the air. Wood threw them as hard as he could in every which direction, and Harry caught every single one every single time. Wood was completely delighted by the time they went back in.

"That Quidditch cup'll have our name on it this year. I wouldn't be surprised if you turned out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he didn't go to work with dragons."

Perhaps it was because he was so busy now, what with Quidditch three evenings a week and homework piling up, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that it had been nearly two months since he came to Hogwarts. The castle was becoming home more than Privet Drive had ever been. His lessons, too, were becoming a lot more interesting after the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of pumpkin wafting the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought that they were ready to make objects fly, something they'd all been dying to try since they'd seen him zoom Neville's toad Trevor around the room. Professor Flitwick put them in pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief because Neville had been trying to catch his eye. Ron, however, had been partnered with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell which of the two was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to either of them after Harry's broomstick arrived, only to Sonya (who ended up with Neville).

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the words properly is important too. Never forget the Wizard Baruffo, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself with a buffalo on his chest!"

It was very difficult. Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, but the feather that they were supposed to levitate just lay on the desk. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set it on fire—Harry had to put it out with his hat. Neither was any happier when they saw Sonya's feather flying around the room, tickling people's noses and earning points.

Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" he shouted, waving his arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong. It's Win-_gar_-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it if you're so clever, Granger!" Ron snapped back at her while batting away Sonya's feather.

Hermione rolled up her sleeves, flicked her wand and said, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

Their feather rose off of the desk and hovered in the air four feet above their heads while Sonya's feather smacked Ron on the nose a few times.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's got it!"

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of class when Sonya and Hermione battled with their feathers.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Something knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry was startled to see that she was in tears.

"I think she heard you."

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must have noticed too, that she's got no friends."

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. Sonya also disappeared after the next class after reprimanding Ron. On their way to the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron overheard Parvati saying that Hermione was in the girls' bathroom, and that Sonya was trying to comfort her.

"She'd been crying the whole afternoon, poor thing. I wonder what happened?" Parvati asked her friend. Ron looked even more uncomfortable at this, but it all dissolved a moment later as they entered the Great Hall.

A thousand live bats swooped down over the tables and up towards the ceiling. The tables were laden with food and they saw Sonya appear moments later as they settled down as though she had been one of the bats.

Harry had been-

Um, okay. Hold on a second. Here, you pull out your books and read the next three and a half pages or… just read the summary.

Quirrel runs into the hall, screams about a troll and collapses on the ground. Everyone goes into a panic and Dumbledore orders everyone back to their houses via prefects. The prefects start to lead them back when Harry and Ron realize that Hermione is missing. They run towards where they think the troll is and lock him in a room, but not before seeing Snape run towards the third floor. Poor Hermione, they soon realize, because the idiots locked her in WITH the troll! So, they run back and find Hermione cowering in fear. Then they start trying to distract the troll.

There. Was that so hard? Anyway, onwards!

The shouting and echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started for Ron, who was nearest and trapped.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid. He took a great running start and leaped onto the troll as it was bent over. He managed to get his arms around its neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel him, but even it could feel pain: exactly what it felt when Harry's wand went up its nose.

Howling in pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry hanging on for dear life. Any moment, the troll was going to rip him off or hit him with the club.

Hermione sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his wand and cried the first spell that came to his head, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The club rose higher and higher above the troll; the spell had worked!

"Harry! He's going to get hit too!" Hermione yelled.

A figure completely cloaked in black waved its wand at itself, then took a great twelve foot running leap, grabbed Harry and flew down to the ground unharmed as the club fell, with a sickening crack, on the troll's head. The troll swayed on the spot and fell to the ground with a thud that made the whole ground tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath, but looked over at Ron, frozen with his wand in the air.

"Is… Is it dead?" Hermione asked timidly as Ron lowered his arm.

"No, just unconscious, I suppose." Harry said. He leaned down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nostril. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh—troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized it, but they'd been making quite a big racket. Professor McGonagall appeared, closely followed by Professors Snape and Quirrel. Quirrel took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper and sat on a toilet seat, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Harry and Ron so angrily, hopes of winning fifty points apiece for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, cold fury in her voice. "You're lucky you weren't killed! Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Then a small voice came from the shadows.

"Please, Professor, they—they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

"I went looking for the troll," Hermione said as she managed to get to her feet. "because I thought that I—I could take on the troll. I've read all about them, and thought I could deal with them, but—but I couldn't. And if Harry and Ron hadn't come to rescue me, I might have died. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to go fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived.

Harry and Ron tried to keep the shock off of their faces. Hermione Granger, goody two shoes extraordinaire, lied for them to the head of their house?

"Well! In that case…" Professor McGonagall said, staring at them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how did you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. What had happened to Hermione? She was the last thing to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending that she did just that just to get out of trouble. It was as if Snape started smiling and handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be docked from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt, you'd better get to the Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left and Professor McGonagall turned to Ron and Harry.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the stench of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than ten points," Ron grumbled.

"Five, you mean, once you've taken out Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked that thing in with her," Harry reminded him.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. They was a very embarrassed pause. They all hurriedly said thanks to each other and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger was their friend. There are some things that you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot troll is one of them.

As he sat eating, Harry saw Sonya slightly toast him—and she held a black face mask in her hand.


	4. Quidditch

All right. Well, my computer has come back from the dead and so I am now working on the fourth actual chappie! Woot! And if I manage to actually finish a book, I will start a series called the lost chapters. These are funny little ideas or shorts that can happen at almost any time during that year. So… Just, yeah. Here goes!

Oh, and also, I'm going to be skipping through parts of the Quidditch match too because it's just TOO long, this chapter.

**Quidditch**

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake was like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves and enormous beaver skin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up to second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know what was worse, people telling him that he'd be brilliant or people telling him that they'd running around underneath him holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. Harry might have asked Sonya, but he wasn't sure how she would react to it, so he left it. However, Sonya lent him _Quidditch through the Ages_, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a foul and that all of them occurred during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that people rarely died playing Quidditch, although referees were known to disappear and turn up weeks later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Ron saved her from the troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's game, the four of them were out in the courtyard during a break, and Hermione had conjured a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry and Sonya noticed at once that he was limping. Harry and Ron and Hermione moved closer to the fire, trying to block it from view, sure that it was not allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces must have caught Snape's eye. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to want a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was _Quidditch through the Ages_. Harry showed it to him.

"Library books are not to be taken from the library," Snape said. "Five points from Gryffindor. Give it to me."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Sonya glared at Snape's back. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and Ron's homework for them after Sonya refused because of a mysterious meeting with Fred and George ("I think she's seriously planning something evil with them," Ron had said). Hermione would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

Harry felt restless. He wanted the book back, to take his mind off of tomorrow's game. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it.

"Better you than me," they said together, but Harry had an idea that if other teachers were listening, he wouldn't refuse to give it back. Sonya offered to come with him as an extra support, so they set off together.

They made their way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. They knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps the book was still in there? It was certainly worth a try. Sonya slowly pushed the door ajar and peered inside—and a horrible scene met their eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," he was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three at once?"

Sonya gasped and let go of the door, making it slam shut.

"POTTER!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes to hide his leg. Harry gulped as Sonya appeared behind him.

"I…I was just wondering if I could have my book back."

"GET OUT! GET _OUT_!"

Harry left, before Snape could dock any more points from Gryffindor. He sprinted back upstairs with Sonya right behind him.

"Did you get it?" asked Ron as Harry and Sonya joined them. "What's the matter?"

In low whispers, Sonya and Harry related the story to Ron and Hermione.

"You know what this means?" Harry said breathlessly. "He tried to get past the three-headed dog on Halloween! That's where we saw him going—he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick _he_ let that troll in, to make a diversion.

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No—he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something that Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what was he after? What's the dog guarding?"

"No, Ron, I don't think so. Hermione has a point," Sonya said slowly. "It's something that _Dumbledore_ is guarding. Only someone that desperate or foolish would try to get the package. I mean, he's the reason Hogwarts is one of the safest places on the planet. No, Snape isn't like that at all. Besides, I was doing lines for him after classes, and he didn't have any time to get the troll in and hide it for _that_ long. No, no… It's someone else. Definitely."

Harry went to bed with his mind buzzing with the same questions Ron posed. Neville was snoring soundly, but Harry couldn't go to sleep at all. He needed sleep—his first match was in a few hours, after all—but Snape's expression was not one so easily forgotten.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and cheerful conversations buzzing about the upcoming game.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time, he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnegan. "Seekers always get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages. Sonya took advantage of that moment to stuff three pieces of sausage in his mouth along with a thin slice of toast.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on at times.

Ron and Hermione and Sonya joined Neville, Seamus and Dean, the West Ham fan, in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had done a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors, and Sonya got someone to charm the lion into roaring.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry stood, nervous. He could hardly pay attention to Wood, who was giving what seemed like a speech. Fred and George patted Harry on either shoulder and he followed the two of them out, hoping his knees wouldn't give way.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, broom in hand.

"Now, I want a nice, fair game, all of you," she said, once they had all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin team captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught a glimpse of the banner, fluttering high above. His heart skipped a beat. He suddenly felt a bit braver.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto the Nimbus.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose high, high up into the air. They were off. The game started and Harry above the game, looking for the shimmer of gold that meant the Snitch was in sight. He could see the whole game unfolding, Gryffindor and Slytherin caught in an exciting game that had sparks flying. Jordan, the Weasley twins' friend, was doing commentary, and Professor McGonagall seemed to be constantly yelling at him. However, it seemed like she was enjoying the commentary all the sa-

"—GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the air at Jordan's shout. He was still on the lookout for the Snitch and saw Hagrid waving at him. Harry did a loop-the-loop in excitement, but then kept a lookout for the Snitch. He nearly got smashed off of his broom by a Bludger, but Harry had managed to dodge it as Fred came chasing towards it.

"You okay, Harry?" he called as he furiously hit the Bludger toward Marcus Flint.

But Harry saw something else. In a great rush of excitement, he rushed towards the elusive Snitch. The Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled towards the Snitch – all the Chasers had stopped and hung in midair just to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs—he could see the small round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead—he put on an extra spurt of speed—

WHAM! Marcus Flint had just blocked Harry on purpose and Harry's broom spun off course.

Harry was hanging on for dear life.

Madam Hooch had a stern talk with Flint, and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" he replied furiously. "In soccer, you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But, Dean, this isn't soccer." Sonya reminded him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry right outta the air."

Lee Jordan was finding it hard not to take sides.

"So—after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul—"

"_Jordan, I'm warning you_—"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue to play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning right past his head that it happened.

Harry's broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a moment, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom as tightly as he could with his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was an angry buffalo, trying to buck Harry off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back to the Gryffindor goal posts, to get to Wood, but then he realized that he had no control over the broom at all anymore. He couldn't turn it or direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating, however, and no one seemed to have noticed Harry's broom was behaving strangely.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom… but he can't have…"

Sonya grabbed the binoculars away from Hagrid and peered through them just as people started pointing up at Harry.

The broom suddenly gave a hard, violent jerk that unseated Harry. He was now hanging on for dear life by only one hand.

"What's going on?" Ron asked. Sonya growled angrily.

"It's Snape," she said, thrusting Hagrid's binoculars back at him. "He's cursing the broom."

"What should we do?" Ron asked.

"Leave it to us." Hermione said, grabbing Sonya's arm as Sonya made her way through the crowd.

Ron grabbed Hagrid's binoculars again and stared at Harry. The Weasley twins tried grabbing Harry, but every time they got close, the broom jerked higher and higher. Finally, the twins retreated but flew around in circles beneath Harry, planning on catching him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

Sonya and Hermione raced towards Snape, and neither even paused to say sorry as Sonya shoved Professor Quirrel headfirst into the row in front. Sonya conjured a bit of the blue fire on Snape's robes and Hermione quickly scooped it back up into the bell jar once it had done its job. Snape would never know what had happened. They ran back towards their seats as they stared at Harry.

It had worked. Harry climbed back onto his broom.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the past five minutes.

Harry was speeding towards the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick—he hit the field on all fours—coughed—and in his hand was the Snitch.

"I've got it!" Harry yelled, waving it above his head. The game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't _catch_ it, he nearly _swallowed_ it!" Flint was howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference—Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was happily shouting the score; Gryffindor had won, 170-60.

Harry, however, was being made a strong cup of tea in Hagrid's hut, with Ron, Hermione and Sonya.

"It was Snape." Ron was explaining. "I saw him. He was cursing your broom."

"Don't take any credit, Ron. I saw him, and Hermione and I went to stop him." Sonya corrected as Ron pouted, annoyed.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, wondering what to tell Hagrid. Harry decided on the truth.

"We found out something about him," He started. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog, except—"

"Except for he got himself bitten. He was apparently trying to steal whatever Fluffy's guarding." Sonya finished.

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" He asked.

"_Fluffy_? You named that thing _Fluffy_?"

"Yeah. He's mine. I bought him off of a Greek chappie I met in a pub last year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—"

"Yes?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Nothin'! Now don' ask me no more," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it!"

"And you put a collar on a three headed dog. I find that slightly odd." Sonya said.

"Rubbish. Snape's a Hogwarts teacher. He'd do nothing of the sort."

"Well, Hagrid, I find that slightly hard to believe after he tried to kill Harry." Sonya replied coolly. "I saw him jinxing Snape, Hagrid. Constant eye contact, and he wasn't blinking at all. I saw him."

"I'm tellin' yeh, yeh're all wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "Now, I don't know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn't try and kill a student! You're all meddlin' in things you ought not be meddlin' in—It's dangerous. I want you to stop. Whatever Fluffy's guarding's a secret between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel—"

"Aha! So there's someone named Nicholas Flamel involved!" Harry burst out.

Hagrid looked furious with himself. As for Sonya, she wasn't looking too convinced with the whole thing either.


	5. The Mirror of Erised

It's been so long since I updated, huh? Well, it's summer vacation, so hopefully, I'll be able to do a lot more! Enjoy the next chapter!

**The Mirror of Erised**

Christmas was coming. One morning in December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze over and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrel around, pelting themselves off of the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as they could to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry and Sonya as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a tree-frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he realized that they were all so impressed with Harry staying on the bucking broomstick, they didn't care what he said. So Malfoy, jealous and angry and nursing a hurt ego, went back to taunting Harry about not having a proper family.

"Yes, that's true, I suppose," Sonya said, "but I feel that staying here's better than being sent home by Hogwarts because you're too obnoxious for anyone here to put up with you over break, isn't that right, Malfoy? You should know how that feels."

It was true, however, that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around a week before, making a list of students who wouldn't be going home for Christmas break, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry at all; this would probably be the best break that he'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be going to visit Ron's brother Charlie in Romania.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out ahead and a loud puffing sound told them Hagrid was carrying it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"No, no! Of course he can help, Hagrid! With a little swish and flick, it's at the Great Hall." Sonya said, imitating the windmill motion Ron had made when they were first learning to levitate objects.

"Oh, come off it," Ron replied, but he chuckled all the same.

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose—that hut must look like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron attempted to dive at Malfoy, but Sonya stopped him, smirking.

"So, we meet again, my overbearing, narcissistic Slytherin. Bet you'd love to go back home for the holidays, what with only your house elves for company. It must be fun, hmmm?" Sonya said smugly walked off as Malfoy steamed and then stomped off.

"I'll get him," said Ron, still angry, "one of these days, I'll get him—"

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the three of them headed off to the Great Hall where they saw something amazing. Fred and George had charmed a life size copy of Malfoy to run around and sing Christmas carols off key. Despite the cacophonous racket it was creating, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick paid it no mind, but were instead working hard on the decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree—put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung around the walls and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," Hermione said. "And that reminds me. Harry, Ron, we should be in the library, we've only got a half hour before lunch.

"Oh, yeah…you're right…" Ron tore his eyes away from Flitwick, who was trailing golden bubbles around the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working." Said Harry brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Flamel, we've been trying to figure out who he is."

"You _what_?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here—you lot better drop it. It's nothing to you, what that dog's guarding."

"We just want to know who he is." Hermione said.

"Unless you'd like to tell us who he is and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must have been through hundreds of books already and… Just give us a hint, huh? I know I've read the name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin'." Hagrid said flatly.

"Fine." Said Ron, and they left Hagrid and went off to the library.

The three of them searched for a while, until Madam Pince threw out Harry for accidentally wandering into the restricted section, and even then, Ron and Hermione joined him with no results. They went off to lunch.

"You will keep looking for Flamel, won't you?" Hermione asked. "And send me an owl if you find anything on him."

Once the holidays arrived, however, Ron and Harry were having too much fun to think about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves, and the common room was much emptier than usual, so they had the best seats by the fire. They would sit there for hours, eating whatever they could spear on a toasting fork—bread, English muffins, marshmallows—and thought up ways of getting Malfoy expelled. It was always fun thinking up the plans, even if they wouldn't always work.

It was during one such plan brewing process that Sonya suddenly came back from her break.

"Well, what if we got that thing Quirrel showed us in class and put it in the Slytherin common room?" Ron said, deeply contemplating the matter. "Then we'd put out signs that Malfoy did it. We'll frame him, and he'd go home!"

"Yeah! That's perfect!" Harry agreed.

"It won't work." A voice behind them startled Harry and Ron, whom were leaning close together. The two bumped heads and resurfaced rubbing their injuries and staring at Sonya.

"What do you mean, it won't work?" They chorused.

"Put it in the Gryffindor common room and plant the framing clues here. It's more plausible. Why would Malfoy sabotage his own common room? Besides, the thing's under lock and key." Sonya said. Harry and Ron sighed and ate their burnt marshmallows.

"Why are you back so early, Sonya?" Ron asked. Harry nodded in agreement with the question.

"I only left to visit my estate in India. I left them all early Christmas presents, everyone on the estate, that is." Sonya said. Harry and Ron decided that this was enough of an explanation and left the matter alone.

Ron also started teaching Harry about wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the chess pieces were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family, in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnegan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different pieces of advice at him, which was very confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send _him_, we can afford to lose _him_."

Sonya wasn't a very good chess player herself, but, as Harry found out, she was a decent strategist. Together, they barely made a halfway decent chess player. Sonya and Harry often tried together to beat Ron, but Ron was not to be defeated. They finally accepted the fact but never gave up trying.

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for food and fun, but not expecting presents at all. However, the next morning, the first thing Harry saw was a small pile of parcels at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas," said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.

"You, too," replied Harry. "I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it were the words "To Harry, From Hagrid". Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it, and it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second parcel was wrapped a bit more properly and in nicer paper. Harry opened it and out slid his _Quidditch Through the Ages_. He didn't need to ask who sent it to him.

A third, very small parcel contained a note.

_We received your message and enclose your Christmas present._ Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

"That's…friendly," said Harry.

Ron was fascinated by the piece.

"Wow! What a shape! That's _money_?"

"You can keep it." Harry laughed. "Let's see… Hagrid, my aunt and uncle and Sonya sent these, so who sent these?"

"Oh, _no_!" Ron groaned at a particularly lumpy parcel. "I told my mum that you weren't expecting presents and—oh, no, she's gone and knitted you a Weasley sweater."

Harry tore open the package to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year, she makes us a sweater, and mine's _always_ maroon." Ron said, showing Harry his sweater.

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge. It turned out to be quite tasty.

His next present contained candy too—he had received a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.

This only left one parcel. Harry unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is… they're really rare, and valuable."

"What _is_ it?"

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, with awe on his face. "I'm sure it is. Try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

"It _is_! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head, and his reflection vanished completely.

"There's a note!" Ron said suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy and completely unfamiliar writing were the following words:

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you._

_Use it well._

_A very Merry Christmas to you._

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron admired the cloak.

"I'd give _anything_ for one of these," he said. "_Anything._ What's the matter?"

"Nothing," replied Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George bounded in. Harry quickly stuffed the cloak out of sight. He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look—Harry's got a Weasley sweater too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other with a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," Fred commented, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid—we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapprovingly upon the scene. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater under his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, we're all wearing ours, and even Harry's got one."

"I—don't—want—aargh—" said Percy thickly as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-marched Percy out of the room, his arms pinned to either side by his sweater.

"Why, look at this! Sonya's got me a present!" Ron said suddenly. He happily showed Harry a brand new chess set, plus a large box of assorted candies from Chocolate Frogs and Ice Mice to Sugar Quills.

"Do you like it, Ron? I hoped you'd enjoy it." Sonya said from the doorway.

"Yeah, I _do_ like it! It's wicked- Wait a minute, how'd you get into the boy's dormitory?" Ron asked. Sonya smiled mysteriously.

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

"Sonya, thanks for getting my book back!" Harry said. Sonya smiled but suddenly frowned.

"Harry, what's that in your bed?" Sonya asked. She walked over and pulled the cloak out before Harry could stop her. "Is this… what I think it is?"

"It's an invisibil-"

"I know. You're a lucky guy, Harry. These are extremely valuable. I wish I'd had one…" Sonya ran her fingers over the cloak with an odd expression on her face. "Did anything else come with it?"

"A note, but that's it."

"Hmm." Sonya spotted the note on the table and looked at it for a second, then folded the cloak neatly. "I'd hide this away safely, if I were you. Put it in your trunk. Then we can go down and enjoy the little display that the twins and I have set up. That's why I came, to ask you to come see it."

As Ron and Sonya left the room, Harry looked back at the cloak, put it away and kept the note in his pocket.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce—and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. Harry pulled one with George and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast that sounded like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside popped a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons and a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit.

It had been Harry's best Christmas ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it. Harry leaned over the side of his bed and pulled the cloak out of his trunk.

His fathers… this had been his father's. He let the material flow ever his hands, smoother than silk, lighter than air. _Use it well_, the note had said.

He _had_ to try it now. He slipped out of bed, and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a funny feeling.

_Use it well._

Suddenly, Harry felt wide awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing, but quickly walked down the corridor.

But where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section of the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.

They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no titles, others had mysterious features. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. Maybe he was imagining it, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, like they knew someone was there that shouldn't be there. Setting the lamp down carefully, Harry grabbed a book and pulled it out with difficulty. Balancing it on his knee, he let the book fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling scream split the silence—the book itself was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the screech went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming from down the corridor—stuffing the book back in the shelf, Harry whipped the cloak around him tightly and set off. He darted under Filch's outstretched hand just in the doorway and streaked up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.

"You asked me to come to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering about after hours, and somebody's been in the library—Restricted Section." Filch must have taken a shortcut because his soft, greasy voice seemed to be approaching, and to Harry's horror, it was Professor Snape who replied.

"The Restricted Section? They can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry backed away as quietly as he could as the two men rapidly approached. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside without their noticing anything. Harry looked around at his surroundings as he footsteps faded away.

It looked like an unused classroom, filled with desks and chairs and there was an upturned wastepaper basket. However, there was something propped up against the wall, something that looked out of place and seemed to simply be here to be out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi_.

Harry stepped in front of it, wanting to see his non-reflection that the cloak caused. He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. Pale white, heart pounding, Harry whirled around—for he had not only seen himself in the mirror, but hordes of invisible people behind him. He wildly stared about the room, willing himself to find the people, but they weren't there. He slowly turned back around and immediately saw two people he recognized immediately by the ache in his heart.

"Mom?" he whispered, his voice hoarse from emotion. "Dad?"

They just looked at him smiling.

He tore his eyes away from his parents' faces, whispered, "I'll be back," and hurried from the room.

"You could have woken me," said Ron crossly.

"You can come tonight. I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror."

"I'd like to see your mum and dad," Ron said eagerly. Sonya, who had just approached the conversation, had a slight frown on her face.

"Your mum and dad? But… aren't they…"

"I saw them in this mirror I saw yesterday," Harry explained.

"I'd like to meet them too," Sonya said, her face brighter than usual. Suddenly, however, her face fell. "But… are you sure this isn't some trickster's mirror? One that someone's… put a charm on, or a hex, perhaps?"

"Well, it's not bad if it shows me my family, right? It's not egging me on to do anything…" reasoned Harry. Sonya sighed, her expression relaxed, and she nodded.

"Well… in that case, I would love to meet your parents."

What Harry feared most the next night was that he would not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron and Sonya under the cloak, it was harder and slower to find the room. They tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering about the cold passages for hours on end. Just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.

"It's here—just here—yes!"

They pushed open the door and ran inside. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.

There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him.

"See?" Harry whispered.

"I can't see anything." Ron replied.

"Only the three of us, Harry."

"Look, there are loads of them!"

"I can only see you."

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."

Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.

"Look at me!" he said.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No… I'm alone, but I'm different. I look older and—I'm head boy!"

"_What_?"

"I am—I'm wearing the badge, like Bill used to, and I'm holding the house cup and Quidditch cup and—I'm Quidditch captain too!"

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.

"Do you think this shows the future?"

"How can it? All my family are dead—let me have another look."

"You had it to yourself all last night! Let me have a bit more time!"

"Stow it, the both of you!" Sonya commanded. She motioned for them to move aside, and she looked in the mirror for a few seconds. Harry glared as she inspected the mirror.

"Erised… I've never heard of it… I—"

A sudden noise in the corridor cut off Sonya and Harry and Ron's whispered argument. They hadn't realized how much noise they might be making. Ron threw the cloak over them as the ominously luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

"This isn't safe. She might have gone for Filch, and I'll bet she heard us. Let's go."

And Sonya and Ron pulled Harry out of the room.

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.

"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.

"No."

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"

"No… you go…"

"Harry, let's go back to the library, and I'll help you with whatever you guys are looking for." Sonya suggested.

"No. I don't want to."

"Harry, don't go back to that mirror, all right?"

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I just got a bad feeling about it—and anyway, you've already had too many close shaves. Filch, Snape, Mrs. Norris… It's too much of a risk."

"Ron, you sound like Hermione."

"I'm serious, Harry."

Harry nodded, but nothing would keep him away from the mirror.

"So—back again, Harry?"

Harry felt as though his insides turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks was none other than Albus Dumbledore. In his rush to get to the mirror, Harry must have walked right past him.

"I—I didn't see you there, professor."

"Strange, isn't it… how being invisible can make you nearsighted," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off of the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, sir."

"But I expect that, by now, you've realized what it does?"

"It—well—it shows me my family—"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."

"How did you know—"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us at all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would see himself just as he is, using the mirror like any normal one. He would look in and see himself staring out. Does that help?"

Harry thought. "It shows us…what we want… whatever we want…"

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, you long to have them all standing at your sides. And Ron, whose siblings have always overshadowed him, he sees himself standing alone, the best of them all. However, this mirror gives us neither truth nor knowledge. Men have wasted away in front of it, driven mad because they have been entranced by the images that they see, not knowing if it is real or not.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home, tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you do ever run across it again, you will now be armed and prepared by this knowledge. It will not do to dwell on dreams and to forget to live. Remember that, Harry. Now, how about donning that remarkable cloak of yours and getting off to bed?"

Harry stood up.

"Sir—Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, although I suppose you've just done so."

"What do you see? When you look in the Mirror, I mean?"

"I? I see myself, holding a pair of socks. A beautiful pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry stared incredulously.

"One can never have enough socks. Another Christmas gone and I didn't get a single pair of them. People insist on giving me books."

It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. Then again, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off of his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.


	6. Nicholas Flamel

I'm gonna try writing this chapter from Sonya's perspective, just to give it a try. That's why it'll be shorter and different from the other chapters. That's all!

**Nicholas Flamel**

"Harry, Snape's refereeing the match?" Sonya asked. "Convenient, if you ask me. If we lose this match…"

"Forget the match, Sonya, what about Harry? You can't play, not with Snape right there!" Hermione protested.

"Say you're ill." Ron suggested.

"Tell them you can't play."

"Pretend to break your leg."

"Really break your leg."

"And blame it on Malfoy." Sonya added.

"I _have_ to play. There's no reserve Seeker. If I don't play, we forfeit." Harry said.

"I could play for you." Sonya said. "What?" She added, when shot questioning looks.

Ron was about to say something when the portrait hole opened and Neville hopped through, his legs bound together. Everyone burst into laughter except for Sonya, who performed the countercurse, and Hermione, who helped Neville sit down without toppling over.

"What happened?" Hermione asked him, patting his shoulder as he sat down next to Sonya.

"Malfoy," he responded. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to McGonagall! Report him!" Hermione protested.

Neville shook his head.

"I don't want any more trouble."

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" Ron exclaimed. "Malfoy's used to walking over everyone. It doesn't mean that you should lay down and make it easier for him!"

"I don't need you telling me that I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor. Malfoy's already been through that." Neville muttered.

Harry felt a Chocolate Frog in his robes, the last one from the box Hermione had sent him. He handed it to Neville, who seemed about to cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," said Harry. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

"That's right." Sonya said, patting Neville's shoulder comfortingly. "Look, Neville. You're here for a reason. You're meant to do great things, even if it doesn't seem like it now. All you have to do is be yourself, and you'll be fine. If not, just come to us. We are, after all, your friends."

Neville's lips twitched into a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry…I think I'll go to bed… D'you want the card? I heard you collect them…"

"Dumbledore again. He was the first one-"

Harry gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron and Hermione.

"I found him! Flamel! Listen to this: …defeat of Grindlewald… _and his work on alchemy with his parter, Nicholas Flamel_!"

Sonya let out a sort of noise which got the trio's attention.

"Flamel! He's the creator of the Sorcerer's Stone! I remember reading about it in a book about alchemy, in Flourish & Botts! The Sorcerer's Stone-"

"-produces the elixir of life and turns-"

"metal into solid gold! But… what's up with you all and Flamel? I could have told you earlier, you know."

Harry whispered, "That's what Fluffy's guarding."

Sonya stood up abruptly. It all fit now: Snape limping, and his leg; the troll; trying to hurt Harry during the last match, then wanting to referee this one…

"Take care of yourself as much as possible, Harry." Sonya said as she walked out. Her mind was racing as she ran to the library. As she neared the library, she heard "_Locomotor Mortis_!" and had enough sense to duck just in time to see the curse fly over her head.

"_Locomotor Mortis_!" She shouted back. She hurriedly rushed past Malfoy, who was writhing on the ground trying to get up. Sonya ran up to the door and nearly opened.

She abruptly spun around, saying, "Thanks for the idea, Malfoy." She rushed back to the common room with a brilliant idea…

On the day of the match, Sonya, Hermione and Ron all showed up hiding wands up their sleeves. Remembering how Malfoy fell instantly, Sonya straightened up a little. It was a perfect plan: hex the teacher and referee without getting caught if he tries to hurt Harry. They'd spent the whole last week working on that one spell. Sonya slightly zoned out as they found seats. She hadn't expected Snape to do something like this. Honestly, cheating through Quidditch! Sonya looked around at the surrounding crowd, and was pleasantly surprised to see Dumbledore seated at the game. Snape wouldn't try anything under his nose. She was jerked out of her reverie when Ron exclaimed something, and Sonya turned around to see Malfoy sniggering.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at his henchmen.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

"He'll be on it long enough to show you up, that's for sure, you idiot." Sonya snarled. Malfoy's grin grew bigger.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team? It's people you feel sorry for: Potter, who's got to family, the Weasleys, who have no money…. You should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

"I'm worth twelve of you…" Neville said shakily.

"How cute. Is that what they've trained you to say now?"

"Shut it, Malfoy. It's bad enough that you're here, let alone talking to us."

"Aww, does little Longbottom need a girl to fight for him?"

"Maybe he does, but he's not the one getting beaten up by them." Sonya said. With that, she made sure that Malfoy's face and her fist really bonded. Sonya got up just in time to see something.

"Wait a minute… Harry's got the snitch! He's got it! We've won!" Hermione shouted in joy. Sonya whooped along with the others and tried to go see Harry to congratulate him, but got swept away by the crowds instead.

Later, Sonya, Hermione, Ron finally found Harry. They sat with him in a secluded part of the common room as he told them of the encounter he'd just seen between Quirrell and Snape.

"Hermione, Sonya, you were right. It _is_ the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him."

"Wait, so the Stone's only safe so long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" Hermione asked.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday!" Ron exclaimed.

"So much for Hogwarts being safe..." Sonya said.

Aaaugh, so short! But it's Sonya's POV (kinda). Anyways, I must have seven reviews before I go on to the next chapter! I don't know what people think of it, and i really need you to review and tell me what's wrong!


	7. Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback

So much more free time! But I was at TANA July 5-7, so I didn't get any work done… TToTT I have to make up for it! So, here it is: Chapter # … Um… well, anyways it's:

**Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback**

Quirrell, however, was braver than they'd thought. In the weeks that followed, he looked paler and thinner, but he hadn't cracked.

Every time they passed the third floor corridor, Harry, Ron and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still snarling away inside. Sonya, however, just took Snape's usual angry, snarling attitude as the best sign that he hadn't gotten the stone yet. Whenever Harry passed Quirrell these days, he'd give him an encouraging smile, and Ron started telling people off for laughing at his stutter.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and color coding all of her notes. Harry and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Flamel."

"Yes, Hermione, but we're not all six hundred something or other years old. Besides, the exams are easy as pie," Sonya said.

"How do you know?" Hermione demanded.

"Erm, because… the work… that we get… well, it's just…. I've seen this in… Salem! It's always the work they give us _now_ that is the hardest and… I'm sure it's the same… here… too?" Sonya stammered. _That was so stupid_, she thought. _I never should have said that. I've given away more than I want to._

"Besides, Hermione, what are you studying for?" Ron asked, completely oblivious of how Sonya reacted. "You know everything anyways."

"What am _I_ studying for?! Are you CRAZY?! You realize that we need to pass these exams to get into second year! They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me…"

"Hermione, how do you differentiate between wolfsbane and murdoc?" Sonya asked.

"Wolfsbane leaves have a slightly red color, whereas murdoc is blue. And murdoc is also extremely sharp." Hermione answered promptly. Sonya sighed.

"You just answered a third year question. You'll do _fine_, Hermione. Relax."

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be siding with Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax when Hermione was sitting next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through their work, and Sonya would help them through it. A shy black haired Ravenclaw girl also helped Harry quite a bit, leaving Sonya and Hermione to work with Ron.

"I'll never remember this!" Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly outside. It was the first really fine day that they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

"I give up." Harry agreed.

"How can you give up? That's just…"

Harry gave her an odd look and she stopped.

"Well, how about we study potions?"

"Fine," Harry said.

"Okay, so for this potion-"

"But Snape hates me!"

"Well, he won't be administering the test, I don't think. But this potion will be on the-"

"And I hate him back. I mean, it's not like he's got any reason to hate me!"

"But this potion-"

"I HATE Potions!"

"You know-"

"That won't be necessary, Monica. You've done enough. He's taking the exam, you know." Sonya said. Monica left in a huff and Harry reluctantly picked up his quill and started studying again. He didn't look up until he heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said shiftily. "An' what're you lot up ter? Yer not still lookin' fer Flamel, are yeh?"

"We found out ages ago, Hagrid." Sonya said. "And we know about it. What the dog's guarding."

"Sshhhh!" Hagrid said. "Don' go 'round shoutin' it!"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact, about what's guarding the Stone except for Fluffy-"

"SSSHHHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', but don' go rabbitin' about it here, they'll think I've told yeh."

"See you later, then," said Hermione.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding?" wondered Sonya aloud.

"Do you think it had to do with the Stone?"

Ron, who was completely sick of studying, went to go see what he was looking for. He came back a minute later with books in his arms and a glimmer in his eye.

"_Dragons_!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up dragons! Look at these books."

"Hagrid told me he's always wanted one." Harry remarked, looking through the books.

"But it's against our laws," Hermione said, also mid-page flip. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to keep Muggles from noticing one in the backyard, you know."

"And they're dead hard to train. You should see the burns Charlie gets in Romania." Ron added.

"But… there aren't wild dragons in _Britain_?"

"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry has a job hushing them up, you know. They have to put spells on Muggles who have spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth is Hagrid up to?" Sonya asked.

When they knocked on the gamekeeper's door an hour later, they were surprised to find the curtains all drawn over the windows. He called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and closed the door all too quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a hot day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused.

"So—yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?" Hagrid asked.

"Yes." Harry said. There was no point in beating around the bush. "We want to know what's guarding the Stone besides Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at him.

"Well, I can' tell yeh that. First off, I don' know meself. Second, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh even if I knew." Hagrid replied.

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, that can't be true. You might not want to tell us, but you do know, don't you? You know about everything that goes on here," said Sonya in a warm flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling.

"Besides," Hermione continued, "We only wondered who had _done_ the guarding. I mean, who else would Dumbledore trust to do this as much as he does you?"

Hagrid's chest swelled at these words, and Sonya flashed Hermione a thumbs up sign.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that… let's see… he borrowed Fluffy from me… then some o' the teachers did enchantments… Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, Professor Quirrel an' Professor Dumbledore himself did something. Oh yeah, and so did Professor Snape."

"_Snape_?!"

"Yeah—yer not still on about that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped ter protect it, he's not about ter steal it now."

Harry knew what the others were thinking: the same as he was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, he would have found out how the other teachers were guarding it. It would be laid out before him—if it were not for Quirrell's spell and Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, right, Hagrid?" Sonya asked.

"Only me an' Dumbledore." Hagrid replied.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to Sonya. "Hagrid, can we open the windows here? It's boiling!"

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. Harry and Sonya both noticed him glance at the fireplace, and they followed to the fire, in which they saw it- a huge, black egg.

"Gods, Hagrid! What do you think you're doing with one?!" Sonya exclaimed.

"But what is-"

"Hagrid, this must have cost you a fortune," Ron said, crouching close to the fire to see if up close. "Where did you get it?"

"And what are you going to do with it?" Hermione added.

"Well, I won it. Las' night, I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got inter a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to _do_ with it?" Hermione asked again, quite worried.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book out from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library—_Dragon Breeding for Profit and Pleasure_—it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on em', see, an' when it hatches, feed it a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here—how ter recognize diff'rent eggs—what I got here's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.

"Hagrid, you live in a _wooden house_."

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

"Hagrid, I know that you'd love to keep the dragon," Sonya attempted, "but, you see—you're not listening. Okay. Fine."

Now they had something else to worry about: what would happen if someone found out that Hagrid had an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," sighed Ron, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making them study schedules for Harry and Ron too. It was driving them nuts, especially because Sonya and her Ravenclaw friend, Monica, both quit on Harry and Ron.

"Monica, calm down," Sonya said, as Monica angrily paced outside the library.

"Sonya, he's horrible! Perfectly _horrible_!"

"Monica, he can't possibly be that bad," Sonya replied, wondering when her friend had developed such a passionate hate for Harry.

"YES HE ISSS!" She screamed. Sonya clamped a hand over her mouth frantically.

"Monica, calm down. Why is he so bad?"

"Because, he hates studying, and he can't do a single thing on his own!"

"He's got some redeeming qualities. You make him sound like an incompetent animal."

"He _hates_ studying. And he's too bloody thick to do things on his own. I hate him. I hate him for deceiving me and leading me to… to… harbor positive feelings towards him," Monica said angrily.

"Monica, just because you had a slight crush on him for a while doesn't mean that he did anything but be himself. Don't act like your crush is his fault," Sonya reprimanded her. Monica was about to reply when Hedwig swooped close by and dropped something less than pleasant just inches away from Monica's feet. Sonya saw Hagrid's scratchy handwriting and took off after Hedwig, leaving Monica to rant at some statue close by.

"Harry! Hermione, Ron!" Sonya called as she ran in the Great Hall.

The note had only two words on it.

_It's hatching_.

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see-"

"Ron, be quiet." Sonya said suddenly.

"-a dragon hatching?" Ron whispered.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out he's got a dr-"

"Shut up!" Harry whispered. Malfoy was only a few feet away, and, judging by the look on Malfoy's face, he'd heard something important.

Ron and Hermione argued all the way down to Herbology and in the end, although Sonya was now reluctant to go with no way of knowing what Malfoy knew, they all were agreed to see Hagrid during morning break. When the bell sounded for the end of the lesson, they all dropped what they were doing and ran through the grounds to Hagrid's hut.

"It's nearly out," Hagrid said excitedly, ushering them inside.

The egg was lying on the table, with deep cracks in it. Something was inside, moving about.

They all drew up their chairs to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once, there was a scraping noise and the egg split open.

The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its wings were humongous compared to its skinny black body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed, and a few stray sparks caught Hagrid's beard on fire. He hastily put it out.

"Isn't he _beautiful_?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out to pet the dragon, and it snapped furiously at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Yeah, sure," Sonya said, "in an odd, pre-homicidal sort of way, I suppose."

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!"

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when he leapt up, color draining rapidly from whichever parts of his face weren't shrouded by hair.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked.

"Someone's seen 'im, through the gap in the curtains. He's runnin' back ter the school."

Harry and Sonya bolted to the door and looked out. There was no mistaking it.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made them nervous. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," Hagrid replied. "He's too little. He'd die."

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke was constantly furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me, now, watch! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Hagrid, give it two weeks and he'll be as long as your house! Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any time."

"Besides, Hagrid, if he burns down your house, you'll have bigger problems than "Norbert, where's Mommy?" You can't keep him here on grounds, Hagrid, it's too dangerous." Hermione said.

"Just because he knows you, Hagrid, doesn't mean he knows that other people are harmless. No matter how innocent you think he is, it only takes one mistake, and no amount of pleading and reprimanding on your part will change the consequences." Sonya added.

"But I can't jus' leave 'im out ter die!" Hagrid protested.

"Charlie!" Harry said, looking at Ron.

"Now you're going nutters too." Ron replied. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No, no, Ron, your brother Charlie! Didn't you say he was in Romania? Studying dragons? Couldn't we ask him to take Norbert? He could care for Norbert properly and set him back in the wild!" Harry said.

"That's brilliant!" Ron and Sonya chorused.

"How about it, Hagrid?" Ron asked. Hagrid sighed, but eventually consented.

That night, they sent an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione and Harry sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole swung open. Ron and Sonya appeared out of nowhere as they pulled off the invisibility cloak. They'd been down helping Hagrid feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I'm telling you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way that Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit!"

"It's true," Sonya agreed. "When Norbert bit Ron, Hagrid told him off for frightening it. And when we left, he was singing Norbert a lullaby."

There was a tap at the window.

"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, rushing to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The four of them read the note together.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Thanks for the letter—I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him over here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon. Can you get the Ridgeback up to the tallest tower on midnight Saturday? Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love, Charlie_

They looked at one another.

"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult—I think the cloak's big enough to cover two of us and the crate with Norbert in it."

It was a mark of how bad the last wee had been that the other three agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert—and Malfoy.

And so ends the involvement of Sonya in Harry Potter's first year adventures.

I know, all of my adoring fans (addressing a crowd of two people), you must be wondering, why are you stopping here? Well… because some things, the trio just has to handle themselves. And even though they do talk to and do some things with Sonya first year, she's not really involved with the rest because they just… didn't invite her. Besides, I have realized that she's kinda stealing glory from Hermione, so I thought that I'd leave the last part alone. (and I couldn't figure out what part Sonya would have played, or how she'd get points, and I'm too lazy to have to pore over the book for another three hours just for that.)

So, for the moment, only, my loverlies, I bid you adieu. Look out for the second Harry Potter rewrite:

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Rewritten Secrets


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